[Estimated reading time: 6 minutes]
The small boat drifted calmly across the sea. Moon and stars danced across the rippling water, and there was nothing else to see or hear. It was a tranquil desert out there that night.
Manannán would have sat at peace as he drifted, but something tugged at his weathered brow.
Peering over the edge of the boat, he looked down into his water, and saw only his reflection. And he felt more from it than he should have.
He sat back down and looked out again into the night. "Come up," he said to the air, and with a soft disturbance of the water, the reflection rose. "Get in." And, duly, it climbed into the boat.
Dripping wet, it sat down on the seat opposite him. It didn't speak, and neither did he say another word
The boat drifted on, adjusting course without oar or sail, despite the lack of wind, and Manannán stood and turned his back to his guest, looking off to one side. He was fixated on something unseen that apparently drifted by them - or they drifted by it.
But the reflection continued to watch him, gaze fixed instead to the back of his head. And when he turned to face it, it had changed. A woman, with golden hair, an ethereal, otherworldly face, elegant in a dress gilded with swan feathers, and he felt his heart twitch at the sight of her. But something about it was wrong. His eyes narrowed.
The woman changed again, to a younger man, dark of hair with a heavy torc around his neck, kingly in bearing, and sea-weathered. This earned less of a reaction. And when it changed again, to a meek, skeletal child, he turned, sat back down to face her, and sighed. With that sigh, he, too, changed. His hardened, muscular appearance took on a younger, feminine form, with grey skin, pure white eyes, hair of either black or silver, it was impossible to tell, and an otherworldly charm.
The child didn't react.
He changed again, to an elderly man with some resemblance to the previous, then an elderly woman who could have been her mother. Then he turned back to the first.
Still the child didn't react, even as those eerie white eyes stared into her soul.
What is your name?" He asked once the silence failed to intimidate either of them. But he already knew. The child knew that. It was a test.
She changed then to mirror his grey-skinned form, and smiled with small teeth. "Nothing that can be pronounced in this realm," she replied.
Her reflection nodded slowly, but continued to stare. Manannán soon returned to his true form. She didn't change again.
"You have a painful heart," he told matter-of-factly, but she didn't respond. "And a dangerous road." He sat forwards. "While I appreciate the game with such a worthy player, why have you come to me? What is it that you want?"
"Your boat." She didn't hesitate.
He nodded slowly again, and sat back on his seat. The vessel barely rocked with the motion. "Most are after the sword," he muttered, then spoke up. "The boat's not for hire, I'm afraid. I have a job to do, just as you do. Souls won't find their way to Tír Tairngire without us." He spread his hands, as though it was out of his power, then dropped them back to his lap. "You need to cross water?"
"I do. Alone."
"No ships. No crew." He cocked his head in thought. "Would the horse do? She's not as swift as the boat, and she will need to stop from time to time, but she can cover the seas just as well."
The realm-walker smiled. "Aonbharr?"
"Who else?"
"Yes," she nodded, her smile widening. "Aonbharr would do."
He raised his hand to his mouth and unleashed a powerful, echoing call unlike anything she had ever heard, and an answering neigh resounded from the distance. Then he turned back to her with authority in his ancient eyes. "And I'm lending her to you, you understand? I expect to have her back."
"I am not a thief, Manannán. I will return all that I've borrowed."
"'Borrowed' is an interesting term," he muttered, though without a scoff. "You stole from Hekate."
The grey woman waved her hand carelessly. "I borrowed without asking. The keys will be returned."
"And will Jack O'Lantern be given back to himself?"
At this, she hesitated.
"As much so as he can be, I suppose."
The horse appeared - a horse it was, though there was something different about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on, aside from the fact that it was standing quite easily upon the water's surface, as white as the foam itself.
"Why did you not fight me?"
She looked back to him. "For her? I didn't need to. The others were beings of...chaos, really. You are one of balance. I treat everyone accordingly."
"You did try to trick me, though," he pointed out. Then added: "unsuccessfully."
She smiled coyly. "Did I try to trick you, though? Or did I just need your attention?"
He couldn't seem to help smiling at that, but it soon saddened. "Have you never considered just speaking?"
"Too easy."
Again he stared at her, and his smile wilted. "You have a painful heart."
"You've said that already."
He nodded. "It's worth saying it again."
A frown flickered across her face at the weight of those words. Then he rose to his feet and held out his hand, which she took and rose after him, and allowed him to lead and help her up onto his horse, which he patted and muttered to all the while.
"What are you saying to her?" She asked sceptically as she found her seating.
"That you will be looking after her for now, and that you can be trusted." He glanced up at her deliberately at this point. "To a degree."
A slender eyebrow cocked. "To a degree?"
"You have a--"
"Painful heart, yes, you've said." She sighed and adjusted herself upon the creature's bare back. She'd never ridden without a saddle before, and it was distinctly less comfortable. But if the horse preferred it, so be it. She wasn't about to offend it, nor especially its owner. She looked back down at him and smiled. "Thank you."
He raised wrinkled hands. "Don't thank me yet. If she doesn't return to me healthy and happy, there will be a price."
"Somehow I don't think you're talking about money."
A crooked smile moved across his face. "What use would the king of the Otherworld have for that?"
"King of the Otherworld," she nodded to herself. "Yes, that's fair. A price. Got it."
"Good." He patted the horse's rear, spoke in clicks, and off it moved, carrying her across the water. "Now go, with my luck. You will need it."
"And don't I know it," she muttered to herself, steering the horse towards the nearest shore who knew how far away.
